


A Lantern in the Dark

by bienenalster (pinkspider)



Category: Boys in the Trees (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster
Summary: Once there was a boy, there was a forest, and there were shadows.





	A Lantern in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax/gifts).



_Once there was a magical treasure, and there was a boy,_ (Corey said, in his mind) _and the boy went looking for the treasure. The night was dark, and the forest was deep, but the boy just took a lantern and went anyway. He had to. There was a treasure there, and with it, the boy would be able to cure his brother, who suffered from a terrible sickness. So, the boy took an apple to eat, and his lantern to light his way, and a little bottle of oil for his lantern, and he went into the woods with only his trembling heart for company._

The woods in Corey’s story were cold and windy. But in reality, it was a terribly hot day. The sun pressed on Corey’s shoulders as he scuffed his way down the path. It was so hot, the air felt heavy, as if the sunlight itself was a weight he had to carry. Here and there, birds called out to each other. Corey slowed down as he approached the tunnel, then almost turned back. There was a big, knobby stick on the ground. He picked it up and tapped it against his leg.

But… his camera. He needed to get it back, if he could. So, he swallowed hard and kept trudging forward and swinging his stick at the air as he went. Corey rapped the tunnel wall with the stick in time to the beat of his heart. He did his best to pretend that his stomach wasn’t tight or flip-floppy. With a deep breath, he turned his mind back to the story he was telling himself.

_The boy walked and walked for hours, climbing over logs and jumping across puddles. Eventually, he became hungry and sat down on a log to eat his apple. Then, he got back up and kept on going. He was tired and worried about cold the night might be, but once he had the treasure, he would be able to make everything be like it was before._

_The sun went down, and he noticed more and more noises in the woods. Once, he heard a rustling of leaves behind him. He turned around and saw nothing, so he ignored it. But then he heard the rustling again and kept hearing it. When he turned once more and held up the lantern, he saw a dark shape in the distance._

_It was far away, but without question, it was coming toward him, fast._

_So, he ran and ran. He tripped over a fallen log, but he just jumped back up and sprinted forward. Out of breath, he stopped after he didn’t know how long. That’s when he realized that he had dropped the flask of oil for his lantern somewhere, and the boy became more frightened than ever before. And in the distance, he heard the rustling getting closer every second._

When Corey reached the opposite side of the tunnel, he slowed down and scanned the ground carefully. At first glance, there was no camera to be seen. Nor at second glance, or third. His heart dropped into his stomach. He’d lost his camera. He had saved up his allowance for so many weeks to buy it, and now all that effort had gone down the drain. His eyes stung, and he blinked hard. He walked further away from the tunnel, fast, and veered off into the towering forest, where he stood in the dappled light and hoped that his heart would slow back down soon.

“DAMMIT. DAMMIT!” he surprised himself by yelling. He bashed his stick against a nearby tree, and when it broke, he kicked the trunk over and over, as hard as he could.

Breathing hard, he wiped his runny nose on his t-shirt. After a few more minutes, he felt more or less like himself again, so he started back home. He decided to take the long way that passed by the skate park. As he left the wooded area for suburban streets, he felt just like he did any day when walking home from school. By the time he reached the skate park, he felt completely normal again.

He stopped for a minute to watch the few kids skating around doing drop-ins on the ramps. The droning whirr of the wheels on the concrete always made him feel relaxed, which was kind of weird, he guessed. On the elevated platform at the end of the rink, he saw a blonde kid he knew from his maths class. The kid – what was his name anyway, it was something weird – was sitting there, casually smoking a cigarette. Corey wasn’t close enough to see the air take hold of the smoke and waft it up and away, but he imagined it instead. He looked away to watch some other boy attempt an ollie and wind up eating asphalt. He sat in the sun and stared at nothing in particular for another good twenty minutes before standing up, dusting off his jeans, and continuing towards home.

Then he remembered with a start, oh, I have to finish the story. When Corey told Cocytus stories, he usually made sure there was an ending. In his stories, the hero defeated the dragons, tricked the trolls, and got back home with a sack full of gold. He knew not every story needed to have a happy end – he just liked them better. So he thought about the boy with the lantern, and he thought about the dark shadow approaching him. But no matter how hard Corey imagined, the image of the boy holding his lantern close while the darkness closed in on him was fixed in his mind’s eye. He was still stuck there when he reached his front door and unlocked it.

Corey opened the door gingerly, hoping that his dad wouldn’t hear him coming in. He yanked off his shoes and snuck through the kitchen, swiping a nearly full box of Tim Tams from the pantry. He ate the cookies while lying on his bed with the lights off and thinking about how short the cost of a camera he was. It’d be faster to just ask for a new one for his next birthday – it wasn’t even that far off. His dad would lecture him about being careful with his things, of course. He’d promise he wouldn’t lose another one. It would be okay. Before he fell into a fitful sleep, the last image in his mind was of a boy clutching a fading light and staring into the ever-growing dark with wide, unblinking eyes.

The next day was a Saturday, so Corey could sleep in before going to the skatepark. The blonde kid from yesterday was the only other one there, going down the ramp and about halfway up the next one before sliding back down or falling.

“It’s how your holding your weight,” Corey suggested, walking up behind him.

The kid whipped around with a glare on his face.

“See, when you get to the up ramp, shift your weight like this,” Corey continued. He set his board down on the ground and stepped on it to model. Then he walked up to the ramp, skated down it, and shot back up the opposite ramp, turning neatly on the edge.

The blonde kid knit his brow. “Huh. Okay. You’re pretty good. Hey, you’re, uh. Corey, right? From Ms. Samson’s class.”

“Yeah. You’re… uh.”

“Jango,” he replied with a look like he was daring Corey to comment on his name. He must get that a lot.

“Anyway, try bending your knee a little more,” suggested Corey.

After about five more tries, Jango’s skateboard was sliding back up the ramp as smooth as butter.

“Thanks, mate,” said Jango as they sat down on the edge of the park. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a squished carton of cigarettes. He shook one out for himself and one for Corey. “Where’d you get these anyway?” asked Corey, accepting the offered cigarette.

“Stole ‘em from my mum,” Jango replied and clicked his lighter on. When Corey drew in the first breath of bitter smoke, he choked and coughed. Jango smirked, but otherwise pretended like he didn’t notice Corey and his watering eyes.

Corey held the smoldering cigarette out in from of him to look at the soft light of the red tip. He liked the feeling of getting away with something.

“See you here the same time tomorrow?” he asked Jango.

“Sure, mate.”

Both boys leaned back on the concrete and watched the smoke curl up into the sky. In the distance, the suburban afternoon noises of cars and sprinklers and kids playing blended all into a comforting drone. The sun pressed down on Corey’s shoulders, and he grinned to himself.


End file.
